A Hundred Unspoken Truths
by My Vantilene
Summary: Water-alyssa's 100 theme challenge from the Kingdom Hearts fandom set to FMA. Includes Parental!RoyEd, Brotherly!EdAl, and Maternal!RizaEdAl with mentions of Royai and EdWin.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: That is none of your business. *rolls eyes* _Rude…_

_So…! I wanted to part take in Water-Alyssa's 100 theme challenge for the Kingdom Hearts fandom, but I also was inspired by Bookwrm[some-number-I-don't-know], Griselda Banks, and my inability to sit still without something to occupy myself with at 2:43 AM. So, it somehow transitioned to the FMA fandom. It's *cough, cough* NOT because they can favorite everything I do but never click the review button *cough, cough*, no, not at all. ._

_ANWAY! This story transitions from Parental!RoyEd (and sometimes Al) to Brotherly!EdAl, and to Maternal!RizaEdAl. Mister Ho might even find himself squeezed into this…mentions of EdWin and Royai. _

_No yaoi. No yuri. No problem. Got it memorized?_

_001: Beginnings _

_This first one's a poem. Oh joy. _

The day I met him was an unconventional feat all its own

The sun cowered behind the clouds, and a pale light from them shone

The grass was wet with diamond tears, glimmering across the ground

The sun's cover, a dark veil of clouds, threatened to poor down

I made my way briskly to the front door

Shouting garbled obscenities, without answer, made me pound even more

With a swift kick to the stubborn door, I was granted access inside

The house was void of life, but whoever had lived here sure didn't abide

There was no incriminating evidence in the ground level, per se

The basement, however, was an entirely different story completely

The smell of iron came full swing at my nostrils

Nearly knocking me to the ground, the malodorous hotstiles

Weren't even the worst of it all

The scene in front of me made my skin crawl

Innards and limbs lay in a disheveled pile

Crimson puddles marred the alabaster tile

Bones the color of ash rest in the middle

In placid chalk, written is something short of a riddle

A recipe. A recipe for disaster

I ran up the stairs even faster

"Where are they? I want those boys found!"

I shouted upon stumbling on the compound

We interrogated the neighbors

There wasn't many, so it wasn't really a labor

But finding them was something else entirely

We couldn't, however, be deterred so easily

I barged into the house they rook refuge in like a mad devil

I grabbed him by the collar and brought him to eye level

"What was that? What did you do?" I was shouting

Then I looked at him — really looked at him — and my anger began doubting

His left leg was missing, his right arm, too, his golden eyes were dead

And a thought of regret passed through my head

It had taken his leg and his arm as payment

And here I had come, barreling in from the wet pavement

Only to roughly find a grip on him and shout in his face

A voice sounded from above me, repentance within it lace

It repeated "We're sorry, we're sorry." on the boys' behalf

It took a steep blow at my heart's shafts

Slowly, I lowered the boy back into the wheelchair, and my head swam

I heard the kid was talented, but he's probably better than I am

I sat calmly in a chair, my composure recovered

And listed the possibilities I discovered

Would come to them if he took the test

A test that determines the fate of the best

Still, the boy didn't utter a word

Leaving the grandma to protest as he sat unheard

I half-listened to the lady as I stared at the kid

Then she said something truly heart-breaking about his kindred

His father had walked, his mother had folded

That's he committed the taboo upholded

Only by fools

Who wish to be used as sacrificial tools

All he wanted was to see his mother's smile one last time

"We're sorry. We're sorry." resounded again, falling in line

With the absence of noise caused

By the old woman's pause

I took one last, long look at him, then took my leave

Walking out of the house and into the wet eve

The clouds had begun to fall in unceremonious puddles

I ran to the car and huddled

As the lieutenant spoke up, "I've never seen eyes that dead."

I bit back a chuckle for how she was misled

"That's what you saw? No…there was fire in those eyes."

I had a feeling he'd be back, that the grandma had told lies

And as it turned out, I was right on the money

For I saw in my office, the very next year

Eyes the color of honey

Shining without fear

He passed the test of course and made it through the ranks

I was given a rather generous promotion as thanks

But the real gift, and curse, was my young subordinate's presence

As he would give a report, he was a true storyteller in essence

Yelling and throwing his hands around to signify catches

And when he offended me, my office was turned into an arena for bilateral shouting matches

To anyone on the outside, it looked like was ostracized each other

If this was the case, we could have always impeached one another

He would be sent to serve under another colonel on a whim

And I would be issued another major, one with fully-intact limbs

But when his jabs at my ambitions and my jabs at his height

Are stripped away from the equation, our relationships a very unique sight

He's like an adopted son, and despite me having no relation to his deceased mother

He's also like an obnoxious little brother

That can make any rainy day shine

With his boiling rage and undisguised maligns

With his painfully perusing, yet occasionally concerned gaze

That still had a vacillatingly wary, distrustful glaze

He's a headstrong, determined boy who's offensive towards most

But his angry and confrontational behavior is a half-way hoax

He's a melancholy and lonely child, forced to grow up before push came from above

And that fire I saw in his eyes comes from trying to protect the ones he loves

Slowly, I find myself included in that small group makes of

His younger brother, the fourteen-year-old he's been forces to take care of

His childhood crush that acts as a mechanic for his prosthetic arm and leg

And her grandmother that made the 2nd lieutenant drop into a beg

We're the only ones left alive after what he tried

In that basement for his lovely mother that died

He carries on his shoulders, for both him and his brother, the blame

That heavy burden that forces him into an emotional exile of shame

He thinks so lowly of his own life, the fifteen-year-old's willing

To step into the line of fire to spare his brother a scratch, even if it means his own killing

When he's sick, he'll keep it hidden so as not to worry him

When he throws up blood on my carpet as a side-effect, the last of his kin

Is the only person he cares about, and if he saw it at all

He treats him with the care of a porcelain doll

With no disregard to his own health,

He'll keep him safe, but when he forgets himself

That's where I come in, to play the role

He is for his brother and take his toll

When he forgets to eat, almost starving himself dead

I'm usually the one who makes sure he's fed

When he wakes up, it's almost always heralded by screams

And his brother can never succumb to bliss dreams

So when he deprives himself of sleep to prevent his night-frights

I'll be the one to make sure he's tucked in tight

When he's shot at, but refuses medical leave

I'll make sure he's hooked up to an IV

And when his distrust gets the best of him

I'll be the one he can put faith in

When he's sick and won't admit it

I'll yank it out of him, and make him commit it

To memory

That he may fool him, but he can't fool me

And I'll get him the help that he needs

Even after his fever recedes

I'll shoulder the pain, I'll shoulder it all

I'll treat him with the care of a porcelain doll

And even when he denies any weakness is his

I'll treat him like the fragile creature he is

But don't get me wrong, he's the strongest kid I know

And if someone else besides me and his crush calls him short, they can expect a low blow

He can take care of his brother, and all of our citizens

Even those of other city's denizens

But he couldn't take care of himself for the life of anyone

His excuses are all generic and overdone

"I didn't think it was a big deal" "It's just a scratch" I'm fine"

Yet when I tell him to see a doctor, he'll whine

However, despite this fact and how we critique well

The boy and I are nothing if not equals

We're the dogs of the military, the lowest of the high

But we're in this together, that no one can deny

And when he insists he owes his brother a limb for what he's gone through

I'll _"politely"_ remind him, he doesn't need another, he's already given up two


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Shut your face.

Timeline: None.

002: Dream

Mustang was up to his onyx, mischief-etched eyeballs in paperwork. The voluminous stacks of slain trees laid as untouched as a bran muffin in a sea of cupcakes and the pen on his desk was still abstinent. He swung around in his chair, fast once, slow the second time. Hawkeye wasn't holding him at gunpoint, so procrastination seemed a better pass time than actual productivity, but with these accusing piles of unsigned documents giving him a guilty stare, there was no way he could procrastinate properly! He inhaled sharply through his nose and stood up, discarding the roll-away-chair to the corner of the room and walking out of the office. He was determined to procrastinate no matter how pressured he was by the impending deadline. The roof seemed as good as place as any.

However, when he opened the door after strenuously climbing a flight of stairs to the upper most level, he found that it was raining. He mentally slapped himself for not realizing it before. Oh, well. He was just going to have to pick up a pretty lady and have a good t—

Wait.

There was someone else on the roof. And he knew, at first glance, exactly who it was. It would be kind of hard to assume it was anyone else, what with that small of a stature. A soft smile made its way to his lips before he realized that Edward was out in the rain by himself just…standing there.

"Fullmetal." The lieutenant colonel called.

The bellicose rain pelting the concrete was his only reply.

"_Fullmetal._" He urged in a harsher tone. Why the heck was the kid ignoring him?

"Fullmetal!" Finally, the boy acknowledged him by turning his head slightly in his direction, but other than that he gave no indication he was cognizant of Mustang's presence.

There was something definitely wrong with Edward. Roy took a hesitant step out of the structural overhang, as if fearing the water would burn through his flesh like acid. He walked over to where Fullmetal was and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Edward." The alchemist's real name is what got more of a reaction from him.

"Roy." He greeted simply, as if stating a fact, his golden eyes trained on an object far into the distance.

"Yeah, it's me. You going to come inside or do you want to drown? You're certainly short enough for that to be a concern." Mustang smirked. This didn't merit a reply for quite some time. A few minutes of silence later, he spoke up.

"You going to go back inside or do you want Hawkeye to kill you? You're certainly useless enough on a rainy day for that to be a concern." The words were torpid and lacked the usual boisterous vigor that normally ignited his insults.

"There any particular reason you're standing in the rain? You know if Alphonse caught you out here, you wouldn't hear the end of it if he thought you'd gotten a cold."

"You know if Hawkeye caught you out here, you wouldn't hear the end of it if she thought you were trying to get out of paperwork."

"Don't turn this around on me."

"Then don't direct this at me in the first place." Still, when Roy thought his words would warrant some sort of angry retaliation, all he got were empty words thrown together in a hodge-podge of desperation, using the ones he had said for a guideline. The boy's thoughts clearly resided elsewhere.

"Look. I know there's something bothering you. So spill, Fullmetal, and don't even waste your time trying to lie."

For once, he seemed ready to confide in his superior. But at the word "Fullmetal" he turned away from him, his arms that hung by his side straightened, the muscles — and metal — tensed as his hands were clenched into fists. Roy's eyes widened a bit. So, was that it? His name?

"Edward."

"Roy."

"Don't start this with me again."

"It's already started."

"Come on, Edward," he wrapped a strong arm around his thin shoulders, "you can tell me."

"How do I know you won't laugh at me like you always do?" Finally, the accusing tone was back in his voice, as if whatever parrot that had repeated his words back to him before was now the elder Elric brother he knew. But even that comforting thought didn't do anything for the sting he felt at those words.

"I could never laugh at you for something that's eating you up as badly as this evidently is."

"Fine." He huffed, finally caving in, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

He took pleasure in the sureness and entirety of that reply.

He closed his eyes, his furrowed brows crowning his eyelids, "Do you think we — _I_'m stupid for following some make-believe legend, some fairy tale, some fantasy, some Philosopher's Stone like a naïve child?" Roy's jaw dropped. The kid was not serious. He was sincerely having doubts this late in the game?

Ed opened one eye first in a hesitant manner, as if he, too, believed the rain would seep through him like acid.

"Oh, Edward." His grip on the boy renewed as he squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, "It's okay to dream. In fact, it's necessary most of the time. If you shoot for the impossible, you're better off. If you aim for nowhere, that's just where you'll go. But you and your brother, you like to dream big, and look at where you are — you're only halfway there and you've already made it big; you have the entire population of Amestris calling you The Hero of the People, countless people dubbing you Angel of Amestris. The state only lets two alchemists into the State Alchemist program every year, and you were a twelve-year-old boy that gave everyone else a run for their money. You know more about alchemy than any of our other State Alchemists in their prime. You strive for greatness, Ed, you dream of a better life for you and your brother and for all the citizens of Amestris, too, and you're going to accomplish your goal. Your dreams are going to come true, I guarantee it."

After a long pause, he wasn't sure if he'd help the boy, upset the boy, or just sent him spiraling back into his unresponsive stupor.

"You know what, Roy?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

"I guess maybe you're not completely useless on a rainy day."


	3. Chapter 3

_Drabble-ish. Definitely not my best work. It's lacking my normally gruesome detail, and a little rushed, but, eh. I like the idea. Sort of. _

Standard disclaimers apply.

Timeline: No.

003: Wave, if you would do me the pleasure of pretending...

"Your arm's broken!"

Most citizens in a ten mile radius could hear the metallic fury in the fourteen-year-old's hollow voice. Mustang looked up from the paperwork he was reluctantly doing, Havoc and Breda let their argument subside as they turned to the sound of the commotion, Hawkeye remained frigidly still, her eyes scanning the room interestedly, Falman leaned in the second doorway, Fuery shrunk back into his chair and busied himself with pedantically dusting off the phone that had long been fixed.

"It's not a big deal, Al, it's just a—"

"DON'T say scratch! I'm tired of this! You're always running off into danger like it's — it's the Morrison's sprinkler on the fritz again! And that last time — what the fuck was that? Why the hell did you jump in the way! You know I could've survived that hit, but you? You're lucky to be alive and you insist on continuing? What kind of sadist are you!"

"Al…"

"I swear, sometimes it's as if you're trying to get yourself killed!" And with that, the bulky suit of armor was walking off, white-hot anger radiating inside.

"Al, I—" Edward tried, but his brother was already halfway down the hallway with no intention of turning around. The occupants stationed in Mustang's office immediately returned to their posts as the door to the hallway slowly creaked open and Edward quietly shuffled in, report creased by his automail hand.

"Oh, Fullmetal," the colonel feigned surprise, "didn't see you there. My paperwork must've been in the way." Roy expected at least some response from the easily-angered boy, but the implication did nothing to rile — or even stir — him. He just calmly placed the report on his desk and began to walk out.

"Fullmetal?" Roy called, inwardly cringing at the concern that leaked in this words unwarranted.

"Yes…sir?"

He swallowed his initial surprise and mastered an impartial expression, turning to address his unfinished paperwork.

"I found tabs on a man close to the Aeurgan border who (.:Wave:.) claims to have used a stone to amplify his alchemical ability. Forget the assigned mission, take the next two weeks off. It's been awhile since I've been out on the field.

Swallowing his own surprise, Ed nodded mutely and walked out the door. Following the path he had seen Al travel down, eyes scanning dangerously over military personnel, he searched for Al's whereabouts. There was a loud metallic clang, and Ed jumped at the sound, running at top speed to where the sound had originated from. Lo and behold, there was Alphonse, slamming the door to a supply closet. Ed slowly opened the door, shuffling in awkwardly and coming to sit next to his brother, hands wrapped around his knees in similar fashion. Silence descended on the two for a few minutes before Ed spoke up.

"I'm sorry. If you want me to check into a hospital…I can do that."

"It's not about the hospital, Brother." He snapped, immediately regretting it after Ed's eyes adopted a guilty and hurt expression, his small form scooting unconsciously away from him.

"I-I-I'm sorry. I-I-I'm not invincible I…I get it. I shouldn't act like it and — and y-y-you're right. I'm really sorry. I just—" He was interrupted by cool metal wrapping around his chest like the loop of a lock securely set.

He let out a surprised and jubilant "Al!" before hugging back, knowing his brother would hear the gesture rather than receive it.

"I'm sorry, too, Brother. I know I shouldn't have yelled at you like that," he confessed, releasing his brother, " but I was just tired of it and I knew if I yelled, that you would listen."

"Oh, Al. You never have to yell to get my attention. Just say the word and I'll be there."

_AN:_

_What I find cool about the Elric brothers is how quickly they can switch personalities. If they're both content, Al will be quiet and polite, Ed will be rough and volatile, if they're both upset, Al will be rough and volatile, while Ed will be quietly subdued and unnervingly polite. I love exploring that a little bit, but I felt like crap when I wrote this and I think it shows. I really hate this one. I mean what kind of a prompt is Wave? And yeah, I did just ignore the prompt, instead adding (.:Wave:.) to some random section. It's relevant! I'm not cheating! _

_Review. Because you know you love me as a ghost. _

_Review. Because you know it's late at night if I'm involuntarily quoting TFS. _


End file.
